The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow Volume 2 GC Interlude 2 Chapter 3 Echoes in the dark, thread lines of the Vanished

 

Copyright © 2025 by Ryan Melrose
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author. 

This is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, places, organizations, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, real-world locations, corporations, or institutions is entirely coincidental. If you genuinely believe any character in this book is secretly based on you, you might be reading a bit too deep—or just hunting for a payout. Either way, this story isn’t about you. Maybe talk to someone about that. 

This is the first publication, written and illustrated by Ryan Melrose, and published in Australia. 

The Endless Balance of an Ancient Sorrow Gavern Codex (GC) Volume 2

INTERLUDE 2 

 

The abandoned train tunnels of Fraid City were as silent as ever—except for Tunnel 17. 

A faint light glowed at the far end, flickering like a heartbeat. It wasn’t a maintenance lamp. 

It was a train. 

Inside the cab, a woman sat behind the controls. Her blonde hair hung in soft waves, brushing the shoulders of her black-and-white puff-sleeved uniform. A white mask—painted with a simple, anonymous smile—hid her face. 

She twiddled her fingers on the dashboard, legs swinging, clearly growing impatient. 

Then—ping. 

Her phone lit up. 

Jilough: 

 Hey sweetcheeks 😘 Got you another victim lined up, just like I promised. 

She gasped. 

Then squealed. 

The kind of squeal girls usually reserve for shopping sprees or surprise concert tickets. 

Her reply: 

 YAAAY!! 😍✨ You’re the best!! This time, take him to Tunnel 17, okay? I left you a fresh bag of dog tranquilizers for your next pickups~ 😘 

Jilough: 

 Tunnel 17? That’s a 30-minute walk through the tunnels. 

Her reply: 

 Well of course, silly 😝 We’ve got 30 tunnels—we have to use them all or someone might catch on and ruin my fun~ tee hee! 

Jilough: 

 Fine. We want another $500 for the trouble. 

Her reply: 

 Done. 💋 Make it $700 for being helpful. Now send me a pic—what’s this new boy look like? I did say I wanted a cutie. 

A photo came through. 

She stared. 

Then bit her lip behind the mask. 

Ohhh YUMMY 😍🔥🔥🔥 He’s adorable. A real cutie. I almost don’t want to run him over... I’m tempted to tell you to cut him loose~ 

Jilough: 

 Really? 

Her reply: 

 HELL no. I want to grind him up even more now. Get him chained up quick! 😈 

She tossed her phone onto the dash and picked up a remote. 

With a click, Tunnel 17’s lights flickered on, one by one, stretching into the dark like a runway. A speaker crackled to life, and a sugary pop song about hot boys and summer love echoed through the tunnel walls 

She stood in the cab, twirling to the beat, boots tapping against the steel floor. 

The train purred beneath her. 

The lights danced. 

And somewhere in the dark, the tracks were waiting. 

Kamis sat in silence as they began chaining up Urlich to the tracks, his stomach twisted into knots. He couldn’t believe he was still going along with this. But at this point, he knew the truth: if he tried to leave, if he even looked like he might talk, Jilough would put a bullet in his head without hesitation. 

So he stayed quiet. Detached. Shut his mind off like a switch. 

It was the only way he could stomach what they were doing—what he was helping them do. Kidnapping boys. Delivering them to that thing in the tunnels. He was already an accomplice to mass murder. If they got caught, it was life in prison. 

Or worse. 

Because if the rumors were true—if that secret force beyond the police really existed, the one people whispered about in back alleys and interrogation rooms—then it wouldn’t be prison. 

It would be erasure. 

FATE. 

No trial. No cell. Just gone. 

And that’s when it hit him: he was doing the same thing to these boys. Delivering them to a fate where no one would ever know what happened to them. 

Jilough was finishing up, texting their client. Kamis didn’t need to read the messages—he’d seen enough to know there was more going on between them. No amount of money was worth this. 

“Alright, we’re done here. Let’s go,” Jilough muttered. 

WHACK. 

A rock slammed into Jilough’s face. 

He staggered back, cursing, blood trickling from his nose. 

Kamis didn’t wait. 

He ran. 

By the time Jilough scrambled up with his pistol, Kamis was already gone—vanished into the maze of tunnels, footsteps echoing in every direction. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You better run, Kamis!” Jilough roared. “I’ll find you, you’re a dead man!!” 

His phone buzzed. 

Her: 

 I’m on my way in the train~ 🚂 As soon as that cutie wakes up. You better leave, or I might get you too 😘 

Jilough: 

 Kamis is running. I think he’s gonna squeal. 

Her: 

 Oh dear. We can’t have that. I’ll check the surveillance. You get out of there. I’ll text you which exit he took. Shoot him in his stupid face for me, kay lovely? 💋 You’re a gem~ 

Jilough wiped the blood from his lip, eyes burning. 

He holstered his pistol and started walking. 

Kamis had made a mistake. 

And Jilough was going to fix it. 

She tracked Kamis’s escape with clinical ease. 

Tunnel 14, the security logs confirmed. She forwarded it to Jilough with a cheery little note: 

Found your rat. Tunnel 14. You're welcome 💋 

Then she swiped through the cameras, looking for something far more exciting. 

There he was. 

Urlich Hale, awake, cuffed to the rail, body stiff with panic. 

She clapped her hands against her masked cheeks like a child seeing fireworks. 

“Hey there, cutie~!” her voice cooed over the echoing tunnel speakers. “You’re a fighter, I can tell. But there’s no escape. I’m gonna run you over with one of my trains~ So go on, keep struggling. Keep thrashing. And I’ll go extra slow just for you.  

 Can you do that for me? Pretty please~? Pleeeeease~? ” 

Urlich fought like hell. 

The restraints bit into his wrists. 

The tunnel lights began to pulse. 

 A low hum stirred the tracks beneath him. 

 Then came the horn—distant but real. 

 Then the vibrations—like the heartbeat of some mechanical predator. 

Urlich’s fear turned jagged. Breath caught in his chest. 

But it wasn’t panic that filled his mind. 

It was Haliette.  

Their promise to meet tomorrow. 

 Her laugh. Her electric blue hair catching the sun. 

 The cake café. 

 Medical school. 

 That one stupid time she called him “Doctor Dumbass” and then immediately told him she believed in him. 

This woman—this thing coming for him—could take his life. 

But she couldn’t take that. 

Urlich stopped struggling. 

His head rested back. eyes fixed on the darkness. 

His final thoughts weren’t of fear. 

They were of the girl he loved—and the future he chose to believe in, even in these final seconds. 

The light rushed toward him. 

And then—silence. 

Back in the cab, she let out a theatrical sigh. 

“Ohhh... you were a defiant one ’til the end,” she purred through her mask. “You’re one I’ll never forget, sweetie. Tee hee~” 

She hummed along with the radio as the train vanished into the night, dragging its twisted melody behind it.  

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 3 

Echoes in the dark, thread lines of the Vanished 

 

“Some absences hum louder than screams.” 

Night had claimed Fraid City—its alleys steeped in shadow, its rooftops crowned in silence. Somewhere beneath the quiet, another child was gone… and the city hadn’t even noticed. 

But some had. 

Frank Gavern, Arthur Sinclaire, and Silus Mikana emerged from the drainage tunnel behind the supermarket—mud-soaked, empty-handed, and dead-ended for the fourth time that day.  

“That’s it!” Silus snapped, throwing up his arms. “This is getting us nowhere!” 

Frank exhaled through his nose, resting his weight against a cracked retaining wall. For once, he didn’t have a rebuttal. But deep down he was more frustrated in a way than the other two in fact he looked sad, for he knows by now and 11th victim would have been claimed by now, and on top of that Silus wasn’t wrong. 

At this pace, they'd be chasing shadows until the next news of it hit the morning papers. 

“Forget it,” Silus growled. “I’m done with you two. I’m chasing down my own leads.” 

Frank lifted his head. “Leads?” 

Arthur blinked. “What leads? What are you even talking about?!” 

But Silus didn’t stop. He just kept walking—hands jammed in his pockets, breath fogging in the cold, his black shirt flopping in the wind, his silhouette swallowed by the dark. 

Frank didn’t chase him. 

Instead, he turned to Arthur. 

“Do me a favor. Head back to the precinct. Brief eye. on what we’ve covered. Call it a night. I’ll take another walk before sunrise see if I can think up more leads.” 

Arthur blinked again. “Wait, what leads?! Guys???” 

No answer. 

He stood there, watching both of them vanish in opposite directions. 

Eventually, he gave in with a sigh, dragging himself toward the car. 

“Unbelievable,” he muttered. “I’ve got two snot-nosed punks with messiah complexes and trench coat drama to babysit. Wonderful.” 

The engine rumbled to life. 

And Fraid City exhaled, unaware the real hunt had just begun. 

 

 

 

 

2 

 

“Dammit…” 

Silus muttered as he walked, fists clenched, thoughts burning. Ever since that pointy-hatted freak fried me with whatever glittery spell that was, I’ve been cut off. Cut off from the thing the man from the Cemetery gave me. 

The Entity’s gift—twisted, dark, brutally precise—had once guided him like a compass. It told him who to hunt. It whispered names. It painted monsters in neon red. 

Now? 

Just static. 

He popped into a 24-hour convenience store, grabbed an energy drink, and wandered the city’s belly with a scowl dragging behind him. 

Then—a voice. 

“Hey, kid. Come in here a sec.” 

A mugger. Crooked grin. Rusty blade. 

One look at Silus, and he thought he saw prey. 

“Oh, look at this tough guy,” Silus sneered. “Think you’re hard, huh? That little thing in your hand is supposed to scare me?” 

Silus tilted his head. Calm. A smirk forming on his face. (he continued) “You really wanna threaten me with that pocketknife?” he said. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go throw yourself in traffic instead? Waste of space like you—shouldn’t even exist.” 

He didn’t raise his voice. 

He didn’t blink. 

And as a passing truck roared down the avenue, the mugger’s eyes glazed over like a puppet’s string had been cut. 

“Yes, I understand at once,” he said cheerfully. 

Then stepped off the curb. 

The impact was immediate. Brutal. Final. 

Silus didn’t flinch. 

He took a sip of his drink not even looking at the crumpled body. “Huh. Not murder. He had a knife. Technically… self-defense.” 

He grinned. 

Then it came—that feeling. 

A vibration under his ribs. A heat crawling beneath his skin. Something awakening. 

The Binding Word still lived in him. 

Twisted magic. Evil magic. Still it belonged to him. 

And beyond that, something else stirred. 

A whisper. 

So faint, it might have been wind or static or memory—but it was there. The same signal that once led him to McGullen’s corporate board. 

Now it was returning. 

“Yes…” Silus breathed. “I can feel it again. I can still do this.” 

His purpose clicked into place like a key in a rusted lock. 

“I’ll be the killer of killers. I’ll stop the monsters—even if I have to become something worse to do it.” 

And in that moment—between pulse and whisper—Silus felt clarity. 

And clarity felt good.  

Ohhh that’s the Silus moment right there—eerie, powerful, and just barely held together by self-righteous fury. Here's your passage smoothed and cinematic, with the gravity it deserves as the moment he reclaims his purpose: 

 

Silus stood alone in the street outside the Alley's shadow, the chill of night pressing close—but inside him, something far hotter was beginning to burn. 

“All right,” he growled softly, eyes glowing with that sharp, feral light, “whatever you are… if you’re part of me now, then your part of our purpose.” 

He closed his eyes. 

“Let me hear your voice. Show me the vermin. The roaches.” 

The air around him vibrated, faint at first, then louder. The humming of power long dormant. The pulse of something ancient and angry. 

“The exterminator is here.” 

From somewhere deep within his chest—deeper than soul, deeper than blood—the power responded. 

A low thrummmm echoed through his bones. 

And then it erupted. 

The red aura flared—violent and alive—cloaking him in raw heat and spiritual rage. Silus rose a few inches from the ground, levitating as if gravity itself was beneath his judgment. 

It was just like the first night. 

The night The Entity gave him this curse. This gift. This mission. 

Agent EYE had told him he’d be a weapon. A scalpel aimed at the rot in Fraid City. 

Now the scalpel had remembered how to cut. 

“Take me to my target,” Silus said. Voice quiet. Absolute. 

And somewhere in the dark, something answered. 

 

3 

 On the far end of the slums, beneath the moon-stained skeleton of Haymans Bridge, the Whitacus twins regrouped with Millana, Carol, and Tellai. They’d swept the area twice. Searched the alleys. Checked under every rusted pylon and overgrown guardrail. 

Nothing. 

In a way, Leo and Theo were almost relieved. Everyone was exhausted, and the fear was finally catching up with them. 

“Alright,” Carol said, stretching her arms above her head. “My parents are at the base tonight, so the house is empty. We can stay there, rest up, and keep searching in the morning.” 

“Wait—the base?” Millana raised an eyebrow. “Are you an army brat or something?” 

Carol laughed. “No, no. My dad’s an Admiral in the Australian Naval Fleet. My mom’s his XO.” 

“Whoa. For real?” Tellai blinked. “That’s... seriously badass.” 

“I thought you were just, y’know, from money,” Millana added. 

“I am,” Carol said matter-of-factly. “And the Admiral’s well-behaved daughter. My parents are quite the Military power couple, through and through. Naturally, I conduct myself with equal grace.” 

Meanwhile, the twins were having a shared internal meltdown. 

She has the All Holy Bosom. 

 She’s a trust fund baby. 

 We’re staying the night with her. With Millana and Tellai. In the Admiral’s mansion. 

 We are not worthy. We are not worthy. 

Leo whispered, “Wait ‘til Palladium reopens. The other guys are gonna see us like kings.” 

“Keep it down!” Theo hissed. “We gotta play this school!” 

Leo blinked. “Don’t you mean cool?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“No, you said school.” 

“Oh whatever, just follow my lead—” 

“So,” Theo said brightly. “What’s the plan for sleeping arrangements?” 

Carol batted her lashes innocently. “Oh, excuse me, boys. You’re not coming.” 

“What?! That’s... that’s not fair!” they protested in perfect sync. 

“Girls’ night only,” Carol said with a wink, striking a mock runway pose. 

“But after everything we’ve been through tonight—!” 

“Don’t pout,” she teased, her voice dropping into something soft and dangerously flirty. “We’re just tired. We need beauty sleep. I promise we’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The twins sighed in unison, hearts fully smitten. 

“…Okay. We’ll go home.” 

As they turned away, Leo whispered, “We were this close.” 

Theo nodded. “I know. We were practically in.” 

Carol smiled as the girls filed into her car and the drove away into the night. The boys left to pedal there bikes home. 

Girls’ night had officially begun. 

 

4 

Frank wandered the city alone, the ache behind his eyes pulsing with exhaustion and fury. He hadn’t slept—not really—in days. Not since the disappearances started to feel like a pattern. One only he seemed willing to follow. 

Another boy was gone. 

He didn’t need a headline to know it. He felt it. 

 Not through magic. Not through some message from on high. 

 Just the same nagging intuition that had always saved lives when everyone else looked the other way. 

Maybe I’m looking in the wrong places... 

He’d dragged Silus and Arthur through storm drains, sewer paths, and utility tunnels—chasing what he thought this thing might be. But the more he fought, the further the trail drifted. 

At this point he was at his wits end not sure where to search next. 

But then there was that sound that familiar he couldnt think on it now he was tired he needed coffee hot delicious caffeine. 

He slipped into a late-night café and ordered the only thing that might keep him upright: 

 Caramel latte. Double espresso. No room for subtlety tonight. 

He sat at a table, eyes sunken, thoughts distant. 

And then it hit him—hard. 

 Another vision. 

Millana, sitting at this very table, sipping coffee, chewing on a ham and cheese toastie. Earlier that morning. 

Across from her sat two others. 

A sharp-eyed girl with electric blue hair, wearing an Elliot Bran High uniform. 

And a boy—brown-haired, slouched posture, same school crest on his chest. 

Then the vision detached. It followed them. Through the streets. To school. Through the day. 

 Graduation. 

Then— 

The van. 

White. Unmarked. Creeping behind them in the shadows. 

A moment outside the school. A final conversation. 

Then the grab. The struggle. 

Tranquilizer. 

Van door. 

Gone. 

Frank jolted, the vision shattering around him like glass. 

He stood up and bolted from the café, coffee in hand, already dialing. 

“Arthur. Are you at the precinct?” 

“Yeah—why? What’s going on?” 

“I have reason to believe the missing boys are being kidnapped.” 

“What?! Frank, where is this coming from—” 

“Anonymous tip,” Frank snapped. “White van was seen outside Elliot Bran High. Plate: XHC-71W. Run it. Fast.” 

Arthur went quiet for a second. Then sighed. 

“You know I can tell you’re lying, right?” 

“I know. But trust me.” 

“…I do. I’ll run it now. I’ll loop in that smug Agent-EYE while I’m at it.” 

Frank hung up and stepped into the street. Just as he was preparing to teleport across town when a train roared past the street beyond the café. 

He froze. 

The sound. The tone. 

It wasn’t right. 

This train was louder rougher. Too heavy. Wrong rhythm. But this was it. 

A train it had to be it matched the echo from his vision though slightly off the hum from his vision of the Tunnel was a roaring Train. He hadn’t placed it then, but now… now it clicked.. 

Frank’s hands trembled. Coffee forgotten.  

 

5 

Haliette barely slept a minute. 

She was restless—nervous in the good way. Today was the day. Not just rollercoasters and arcades and dessert at their favorite cake café. 

Today was the day she’d tell Urlich Hale how she really felt. 

She hoped—really hoped—he wouldn’t invite Millana. As much as she liked the girl, Haliette wanted this to be their day. Just the two of them. 

The more she thought about it, the more her heart raced. 

 No more waiting for him to make a move. 

 Some boys never acted unless they were shown it was safe to feel something. Urlich was exactly that type—and Haliette knew it. 

So she’d decided: She’d show him. 

Lying in bed, she stared at her screen. 

Hey Urlich. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow~ 

 Remember, you better show up 😉 

No reply. 

A few minutes passed. She typed again. 

I really wanna try the Vomit Vortex rollercoaster. Hope you can handle it 😛 

Still nothing. 

Her thumbs hovered, then sent a final message. 

Well, you must be asleep~ Goodnight Urlich. I’ll see you tomorrow 😊💗 

She left her phone on the pillow. Kept checking it through the night. 

 No read receipt. No bubble. No reply. 

Dawn came. 

She got out of bed, showered, and did her hair the same way she always did—the way he liked. 

She chose a soft yellow V-collared blouse with elbow-length sleeves. It brought out the gold in her eyes. She’d thought about wearing a singlet, something bolder, but decided this felt… right. More confident. More sophisticated. 

She looked in the mirror. And for the first time in a long time, thought: 

 Yeah. I look hot. Not “trying” hot. Just… me hot. 

She smiled, took a selfie, and sent it. 

See you soon~ 😉 🚗 

By 8:00 a.m., she was in her white Hyundai, driving through sunlit streets. 

At a red light, she tapped again. 

Hey lazybones, you awake yet? If you’re late—KAPOW 💥👊 

 

 

 

She laughed to herself. Nervous energy poured out of her in little bursts. 

 Everything felt like it mattered today. 

She pulled into the parking lot of the amusement park just before opening. The plaza was bright, the air already thick with popcorn and cotton candy fumes. 

She found a bench just outside the main gate and sat down, checking the time. 

9:00 a.m. approached. 

The giant LED screens at the gate looped a two-minute preview of the attractions—twisting coasters, neon-lit arcades, animatronic mascots waving in slow motion. 

She watched it all. 

Waiting. 

Still smiling. 

She believed this would be their story. 

She had no reason yet to believe it was already over. 

By 9:10 a.m., Haliette's nervous excitement had shifted to quiet confusion. 

She checked her phone again. 

How far away are you? 

 Buses running late? lol 

Still nothing. 

She tried to laugh it off, but unease tugged at the edges of her smile. Urlich Hale was never late. If the bus came late, he’d have jogged the last few blocks. If he overslept, he’d have texted an apology three times over by now. 

Something was wrong. 

Suddenly, the bright loop of the amusement park's promo flickered and glitched. The monitors around the entrance—usually playing endless ads and ride highlights—shifted to black. 

Then a logo. 

Fraid City News. 

A breaking announcement. 

**“We interrupt your scheduled programming. For the past 11 days, Fraid City has suffered the unexplained disappearance of 11 teenage boys. 

With authorization from FATE, their identities are now being released to the public.”** 

The crowd near the gate froze. 

One by one, faces appeared on the screens—young, hopeful, gone. 

Joh Salvos. 

 Spiky blond hair, a white walking stick in hand. 

Izzy Markens. 

 Red hair, thick glasses, smiling through braces. 

Rahnie Valgom. 

 Tall, dark-haired, in mid-laugh like someone caught mid-story. 

Haliette’s breath caught. 

 No. Please no. 

The list climbed. 

Eight… Nine… Ten… 

Then— 

 Number Eleven. 

Urlich Hale. 

His school photo flashed across every screen in the city. 

**“If anyone has information that may assist in the recovery of these individuals, you are urged to contact law enforcement immediately. 

Effective immediately, by order of the Mayor and the FATE division, Fraid City is under full curfew. 

All civilians must be indoors by 5 p.m. Exceptions apply only to authorized personnel.”** 

The broadcast ended. The screen cut to black. 

Haliette dropped her phone. 

Then her knees gave out. 

She collapsed onto the pavement in front of the gate, stunned, shattered—tears coming too fast to breathe. 

A small crowd gathered. Some watched in awkward silence. 

 Others averted their eyes. 

 No one knew what to say. 

Because none of them knew but she did.